She had first picked up the fiddle back when it was still called a viol, that was how long she had been at it. Little by little the pool cleared, the whims vanished: so that both Ruth and the doctor, by the middle of the third week, began to accept Spurlock's actions as normal, whereas there was still a mote or two which declined to settle, still a kink in the gray matter that refused to straighten out. She found presently she was out of the dock and confronted with the alternative of being bound over in one surety for the sum of forty pounds— whatever that might mean or a month’s imprisonment. . Under this unnerving scrutiny, a slow flush mounted to the woman’s cheeks. No, don’t let me call myself that. She was surprised to find how stored her mind was with impressions and memories of him, how vividly she remembered his gestures and little things that he had said.
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